Six Months of Grieving
by Ms. ST
Summary: It was not in Varric's nature to hold grudges, unless you lock him and three of his friends down in the Deep Roads to die, but Ada still struggled to keep the thought from worrying her. Six months without sharing a drink and a good laugh with a loyal friend was not to go unnoticed, much to Hawke's pleas to the Maker. A talk with a friend helps Hawke feel at peace. Hawke/Sebastian


It had been six months since Ada stepped foot into the Hanged Man. Though with the musty smell of stale mead in her throat and the floorboards sticking to the bottom of her leather boots, it was all too familiar, like she had only visited yesterday. It was a welcoming homecoming by the standards of anyone who had frequented the tavern before, with Edwina pinching an ear of a drunken man twice her size to keep him away from the fireplace, hushed whispers of gossip and rumors, two shadows in the corner too eager for a quick release.

The chill in the darkness reddened her cheeks and dried her lips, but the warmth of the tavern was inviting compared to the cold outside. Hawke could already feel her stiff fingers loosen as she untied the cloak from around her neck. The deep red of the velvet reflected the light of the fire, showing its sheen and softness and worth as it hung haphazardly across her arm. Bodahn had worried after her as she left her estate, warning her of thieves who would target her, but Hawke's reputation with her twin daggers would keep her safe from anyone foolish enough to touch her.

A few people greeted Ada as she made her way to the suite upstairs. It was nothing like before, when the regulars would welcome her with raised cups and a heartening "Hawke!", and she had to admit, she missed the attention. But some had obviously not forgotten her many visits to the rooms above as they winked and licked their lips. Hawke quickly ignored them and walked up the stairs.

It was not in Varric's nature to hold grudges, unless you lock him and three of his friends down in the Deep Roads to die, but Ada still struggled to keep the thought from worrying her. Six months without sharing a drink and a good laugh with a loyal friend was not to go unnoticed, much to Hawke's pleas to the Maker. Varric had more than once put her on his tab, even after her sister and mother were killed. Hawke nearly emptied a barrel of ale before Norah took her goblet away, but Varric, always a perfect gentleman, slipped Ada his flagon of honeyed liquor from under the table when the barmaid wasn't looking. And what had she repaid him with? Six months of no visits, not even a letter.

That dwarf really knew how to make her feel ashamed, even when he wasn't trying.

In his suite, Varric was hunched over a pile of papers, glasses on the bridge of his nose, and quill in his hand. A goblet stood to his right, threatening to tip over the edge of the table. Cast shadows skittered across the walls as the candles flickered, making the gold embellishment of his shirt shimmer and the lines on his face deepen. Without looking up, he lifted the goblet to his lips and drank deeply.

"Careful now," Hawke said from the doorway, "I heard Corff put something _extra special_ in the ale tonight."

Eyes widened from behind the rim of his goblet, just a fraction, but enough to make Hawke feel guilty. Varric smacked his lips together and said, "I _thought_ I tasted dirt."

"Is that what he's using now?"

"Guess he ran out of nug shit."

They laughed, and Ada was surprised at how easily it came for the both of them, even after being away from each other for so long. Perhaps she was worried for nothing. But when the silence hung heavy in the air and the awkwardness started to seep in between the two, Ada was ready to flee down those steps and out the door, into the cold again. The merchants' guild, blood mages, even the Arishok had not phased her; she fought against an ancient Rock Golem, a fair share of darkspawn, and more demons than any human should, but put Ada Hawke up against an awkward situation, and she would stumble. Thankfully, Varric shared her fear of empty silences.

Varric took off his glasses, set them to the side. "I hear Meredith found a nice perch right over your head," he said, taking a jug from the table and pouring the drink into a second goblet.

Ada did not need more of an invitation to take a seat next to him. She draped her cloak on the back of the chair before sitting down, but politely declined the cup. The dirt had been a joke, but now, looking deep into the amber-colored liquid, Ada wasn't quite sure. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time she wanted to take a shit on it."

From beside her, Varric chuckled, a low rumble that puffed out of his large nose. It was a familiar, pleasant sound that made Ada smile, glad that she could still make her oldest friend laugh.

"Glad to see the Chantry hasn't influenced your sailor talk," he said.

Her eyebrows shot up impossibly high; she sputtered for a minute like a gaping fish out of water while Varric took a slow drink from his goblet. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and Ada knew the only reason he took another sip of that piss-poor ale was to hide that roguish smirk of his.

Damn dwarf.

"You know," she whispered, then groaned and hid her face behind her hands. "Of course you know." A few moments passed, then she took a deep breath and let her hands slip away, under the table. "All right, how did you find out?"

"How do I find out anything?"

Ada narrowed her eyes. "You know I don't like being watched, Varric" she warned.

"Call me every name in the book, Hawke," Varric said with a touch of sincerity in his tone, "but I just had to know what the Champion of Kirkwall was doing all night in a Chantry."

"So you can spin some wild tale about Sister Hawke and her quest to rid the world of demons and darkspawn and abominations with a golden halo above her head?" she said, crossed.

If he had said it intentionally, or whether he had just mixed up some poor choice of words, Ada couldn't tell, but she still felt a slight stab in her chest. She doubted that Varric would ever purposefully hurt her, but then again, there was that fat comment he made some months ago, in the Carta's base under the Vimmark Mountains. It was hard to interpret Varric's teasing because he always had a mischievous shine in his eyes as though he had some secret he wasn't sharing, and though the two had been good friends for over six years, having each other's backs and sharing adventures no one would ever believe, that small spark in his eyes had always left Ada wondering.

Varric looked hurt, his lips dipping into a frown. "Nothing so theatrical, I assure you." He shifted in his chair, uncomfortably. "Though joining the Sisterhood is quite the dramatic change, considering your..." The word hung in the air like a fire-breathing high dragon. The room started to feel stuffy despite the open windows above.

Ada brought her hands up and cupped them around the goblet, like holding onto an anchor. "My lifestyle in the past was getting me no where."

"Isabela would reconsider," said Varric, a hint of a smirk gracing his lips.

A hot blush crept up her neck, her ears turned pink. "I can't say it wasn't fun," she admitted. She made sure to avoid Varric's gaze and found the chip on the rim of her goblet to be far more fascinating. "That's not what I meant." Her mouth opened as though she was going to say more, but she closed it, shook her head, and sighed. "I can't expect you to understand."

"As a friend," Varric began, "I think I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't try."

Ada ran her thumb over the little chip, trying to pick her words just right. She had no one outside of the Chantry who she could open up to about the choices she had made in the last six months. Speaking to Anders was out of the question; the poor man looked worse than the walking skeletons below Sundermount, hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes, knobbly fingers stained with ink. The mere mention of the Chantry could set him off. Then there was Isabela, who Ada tried to avoid at all cost for obvious reasons. The pirate would either feel betrayed or like Ada was backstabbing her, even though they had broken off what they had after the Qunari attack. Isabela stuck around because Hawke had asked her to and found in herself to forgive the pirate. The trust, however, was being held by thin strands of twine. Fenris was always difficult to talk to, Merrill stopped speaking to her when she refused to help with the mirror, and Hawke never saw eye-to-eye with the Guard Captain. Her sister and mother were dead, and Gamlen was just beginning to patch up the relationship he had lost with his daughter.

Only Sebastian truly understood what Ada was going through. No one else would understand. But Varric was willing, and the silence was getting awkward, and that was enough for her.

"I always thought that sex and drinking and money would be enough," she said at last. "For some people, it is. There's nothing wrong with that." Ada laughed. "I'm sure the heads of the Chantry scholars are spinning just by me saying that... But Isabela is happy with her life. Not many people can say that, so I have to admire her for knowing what she wants. But," she paused for a moment and tucked a lock of dark hair around her ear, "But it was never enough... for _me_. Well I'd steal more money, drink more, have sex with anyone I wanted, thinking that if I just kept searching, I'd find that something I was missing. I was a complete ass, Varric."

Beside her, Varric smirked. "I won't argue with you there, Hawke."

"I did everything for money, killed anyone I had to. Gold seemed more tempting than sparing someone's life. Then Bethany..." Hawke cast her eyes down and took a deep, shaky breath. "I searched deeper. I had to. I had two parts of myself missing."

"So this is where Isabela comes in?" Varric hazarded.

Ada nodded. "Now that I look back, I loved Isabela. I said at the beginning, 'Oh this is just a fling, just a fling. Let's just have fun!' But there was something there, I could tell we both knew it. So when she lied to me, lied to all of us because of that _stupid_ relic, I couldn't trust her, and trust was something I needed. After Mother died, I found myself at the Chantry. The Grand Cleric was there, and taught me about forgiveness. I was angry and bitter. I didn't know what I was doing there, so I came here because it was familiar.

"But the next day I went back. Maybe because I didn't have anywhere else to go or I just liked the smell of the candles, I don't know. Sebastian was there, and he _let_ me be angry." Ada smiled at the memory. She could almost detect the scent of incense and sandalwood. "He gave me time to grieve."

"Let me guess," said Varric, "that's what you've done for the past six months?" Ada hadn't noticed he had taken his goblet from the table again, and was now setting it gently to the side.

Hawke dipped her head, a guilty sort of expression on her face. "That's what I've done for the past six months."

"You do seem different," Varric mused, "but it might be the hair."

Ada pressed a hand on the top of her head and ran it through until she hit the string that pulled her hair together in a low ponytail. It was easier to get used to the length than she thought. "Personal choice. I felt I needed a change. I don't know, I sort of like it. If you would have told me five years ago that I'd have long hair again, I'd probably kill you on th-"

"Hawke," Varric interrupted. His expression was serious, albeit gentle as though he were stringing his next words carefully. "I can't say I'm not concerned. From the Hanged Man regular to a Chantry Sister... It's a big step. I just hope you didn't go in blindly. With all those big windows, it could happen."

Releasing the goblet, Ada smiled and said, "I know what I'm doing, Varric. I had a long time to think about this, but it's what I want. I'm happy."

"And Choir Boy?" Varric prompted.

At his nickname, Hawke's grin widened. "He's been very good to me. More than I probably deserve. But our pasts are not very different, so he understands a great deal of what I went through. Am still going through."

Ada spared Varric the details.

The first thing Hawke learned from the Grand Cleric was mercy. And from the past, Ada knew Sebastian struggled with forgiveness, and she with doing the right thing. Together they built a stronger relationship by supporting each other, so it was only a matter of time before they fell in love. Ada had to admit that falling in love with Sebastian was strange in the beginning. He was a big leap from Isabela, far from the men and women who had accompanied Hawke's bed in the past. But he was there for her at her lowest point, never saying a word, just letting her _be_. No empty promises, meaningless touches, or full barrels of liquor to drown in. At night, he would sneak her into the courtyard where the templars trained and encourage her to shred the straw dummies with her daggers, until one night she said she did not need them anymore. She had never seen someone's face turn that red when she started to flirt with him, but she found it charming.

The day she had caught the two holding hands, Her Grace had pulled Ada aside and confessed that she was glad Sebastian had someone like Hawke.

"I have seen the way you two look at each other," Grand Cleric Elthina had said. "You may have stumbled in the past, child, but I know you are stable. You may yet help that boy stay level-headed. Please guide him in the right path."

Ada had bowed her head with a small smile and said, "Yes, Your Grace."

"Look," she said to Varric, "I didn't mean to cause anymore trouble. Like I said, I did not expect anyone to understand, and I still don't."

The dwarf nodded, as though he did understand, but Hawke was not so sure. "Must have been a hell of a find if it kept _you_ from this place for six months."

"The Chantry didn't keep me from here," she confessed. "I was a coward."

Varric shook his head with a smug smile. "Not the word I would use."

"Hmm... And what word would you use?"

"Elusive? You're a hard woman to find, Hawke, when you don't want to be found."

"Isn't running away from your problems the same thing as being a coward?" she asked, arching her brow.

"If that were true, then I'm the biggest coward in Thedas."

They shared another laugh before a comfortable silence settled.

"Thank you," Ada said before it got too awkward, "for being concerned, Varric."

As Hawke stood up to leave, Varric bowed his head and spread his arms aside like a king, and said, "Anytime, Hawke. Don't suppose you can keep that a secret? Can't have people thinking I've gone soft."

"Your soft spot is safe with me _if_ you stop sending your men to spy on me."

"I think I can manage that."

* * *

It was the middle of the night. A cluster of red candles were set in a semi-circle around her. The shadows on the high stone walls stretched and shivered with every twitch of a dozen flames. The enormous statue of Andraste gazed forward, powerful and intense, but Ada Hawke found comfort in front of the golden toes of the Maker's bride. Moonlight cast a silver veil around the statue's head, and Hawke smiled, peacefully.

"Blessed Andraste," she began her prayer, pressing her palms together. She whispered the rest of the prayer into the flames, making them shudder.

Behind her, a black figure approached, but Ada knew exactly who he was. Sebastian knelt beside his future wife and touched her shoulder. Kneeling up on her feet, Ada turned and grabbed his hand in hers.

"I take it, it went well with Varric?" he asked.

"It went more or less as I expected," she replied.

Sebastian lifted his other hand and placed it over Ada's scarred knuckles. "And what did you expect?"

"He doesn't hold a grudge against me, for one," Hawke sighed.

"Varric is a noble man," he said with a soft smile, "I don't think he has it in him for such things."

"Hmm... I think it's more that he has far too many stories in that head of his to hold onto things like grudges."

Sebastian made a face, as if remembering something unpleasant. "Did you tell him about us?"

"He sort of figured it out on his own."

"You don't think he would write this in that memoir of his? Not that I would not want our story to be told," he corrected himself when Ada's face fell, "but I have heard him tell stories about you, stories that I know are not true. Would he do such a thing?"

"Oh without a doubt."

"Oh."

"He would probably slip in a few naughty bits as well," said Hawke, coolly.

Sebastian's face, neck, and ears turned as red as the candles that surrounded him. Ada's hand shot up to her lips to hide her smile and stifle her giggling.

"Maybe I should have a talk with him."

"No. No, Sebastian. I'm only joking." Hawke gulped down a laugh that was threatening to bubble up. "Varric wouldn't do that." She failed to mention that when Isabela found out, there would be a fresh page of the pirate's friend-fiction nailed to her door, involving Hawke and the Choir Boy playing Healer in a broom closet.

The thought made her sigh. Thinking about Isabela still left a small pang in her heart, but she looked to Sebastian and smiled. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in the smell of sandalwood, comforting her. He held her close.

"I love you," she whispered, and she felt a smile press against her temple.

He answered her with a lingering kiss on the cheek. Together, they turned back to their candles and prayed hand in hand.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh man, it has been forever since I posted something, huh? What? Three years? Jeez. I don't even know how to work this site anymore. Anyway, I've been working on this for a few days now. Never actually written a Dragon Age fanfic before. Varric's voice was so difficult to find, so hopefully I did him a smidgen of justice.

I hope you enjoyed reading this. :)

_Dragon Age, along with its characters, belongs to EA and Bioware. I did not make a profit while writing this story._


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